Noise
by bonesintheocean
Summary: An alternative plot with the beginning of Better Than Clare. And this one is significantly sadder. I don't know why I do this to myself.


Eli's knuckles were whiter than the lines on the side of the road. He gripped the steering wheel so tight, tight enough to stop his bony hands from shaking. He swore that when they shook, he could hear the amplified clattering of his bones rubbing against each other, a bitter sound you only hear in nightmares. In fact, he thought he could hear every sound his body was making; rattling, brittle bones, stretching, straining muscles, pulsing, revolting organs, pale, paper skin. He could hear the grinding of his teeth, clenching so hard that they threatened to crack, thousands of pounds of pressure forcing them together. He could taste blood in his mouth, after biting his lower lip to the point of bleeding, as well as both sides and the tip of his tongue, and the inside of both cheeks. He could feel his eyes pulsing, as if they had their own hearts, and his lower eyelids, swollen and stained red like his cheeks, ached and moaned. He was so sure that every single fiber of him, every little cell, was making some kind of sound. Every piece of Eli was crying out in pain. Or so he was convinced.

And then there was the noise of the hearse. Clanging, metallic sounds, beating against his eardrums. He couldn't stand to have music playing with everything so loud. The worst, though, was all the noise inside his mind that he couldn't stop. He felt his thoughts, little bitter words and cliches, sliding along the grey matter of his brain, and digging deep into all the crevices. Bouncing around inside his skull, all the words he'd said to her, all the things he'd said that day.

The most awful, everything she said, was the loudest of things. Just as clearly as he could feel her fingernails, painted sunflower yellow, ripping and pulling apart his heart, he could hear her voice everywhere. He could feel Clare Edwards and her voice, her giggle, her scream, her sigh, tearing his heart slowly into two jagged pieces.

He wasn't sure where he was going; but it felt like he'd been driving for hours, and hours. It had to be morning now, it had to be, but there was no sun anywhere. Eli worried he would never see the sun again. Clare was always the sun. She was always the thing that brought light to where there was darkness. She always helped with his problems and brightened the shadows. She was always going to be there at the end of the night, and make everything clear and serene again. She was a medicine, a drug, a cure, electrotherapy, the answer. She was everything.

But now all the street lights blurred together and the lines shook, becoming waves, like in an ocean, and suddenly Eli was drowning. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. The ocean was a dark, murky place. The surface was so far away. Why couldn't he remember how to swim?

Taking a deep breath, Eli paused. He took his foot off the gas pedal, and stopped listening to all the noise. Because that was it. He was going to die.

Eli turned off the road, in a familiar area. Of course, it wasn't morning. Of course, he hadn't been driving for hours. Of course, his mind was playing tricks on him again. He laughed, grabbing onto his dark hair and pulling, curling forward so that his forehead touched his legs. He laughed, and screamed, and started to cry again. He cried because his mind lied to him, and because he couldn't believe how stupid he was, and because Clare was gone, and because he was drowning, and because he would never see the sun again. And the noise wouldn't stop.

He sat up, leaned back, looked around. He reached for his overnight bag, blinked, and pulled out a notebook. His struggle to find a pen only made him scream again, and cry harder. When he finally did, he removed its cap with his teeth, and began to scrawl. He wrote and he wrote, and finally turned a page, only to repeat the process again. When all three pages were complete, he tore them out of the notebook and threw it onto the floor. He folded them carefully, disgusted by the small stains tainting his already deformed and demented writing. Finally, he labeled them.

_My body._

_ My mind._

_ My heart._

He stuffed them into the pocket of his black jacket and opened the door, stepping out into the night. There was fog in the air, an a small chill that was almost comforting. Eli didn't look up because he didn't want to see the moon. He wanted to see the sun.

Walking around to the back of the hearse, he opened it and almost grinned. The sleek surface of the gun glinted, like its presence made stars smile. It made him think of how much happier everyone was going to be. He slowly grabbed it, and pulled it into an embrace. He cradled it as he stepped through the rusted, old gate. Looking around, he spotted the small corner where he had, not even forty eight hours prior, shot a picture of himself and his dead ex girlfriend, Julia. The thoughts made more tears leak from his eyes. How could he have gotten this far? How could he blame Julia? How could he blame anyone but himself? He sat down against the wall, surrounded by the broken glass from the photograph's frame. He sat the gun on the ground beside him, hesitant to let go of it for even a minute.

Eli pulled the first note from his pocket, and clutched it tightly.

_My body._

_ Dear Mom and Dad, Cece and Bullfrog,_

_ Thank you for giving me the amazing life I've had. Thank you for supporting me, through everything, and being my best friends. Thank you for being the best parents in the world, and probably ever. Every other kid my age complains about their parents and how ridiculous they are, or unfair, or ignorant. But not you guys._

_ Don't blame yourselves for any of the bad stuff that happens or has happened to me, please. You were great role models, you brought me up right, taught me everything a good kid should know. You taught me right from wrong, and what love is and what it means. And I'm so grateful to have been a part of a family like ours, and to have had you guys. No matter what happened, happens, or will happened, just know that I really love you, and I always have, and I always will._

_ Love, Elijah._

He bit his lip, which was already horribly sore, and slammed his fist against the ground. There was so much the letter couldn't say. But he still hoped it would mean something.

Glancing at his metallic companion, Eli reached for the second note. With one glance, he almost choked. He hated himself for writing this one.

_My mind._

_ Adam,_

_ You're the best friend I've ever had. I thought about calling you so I could hear one of your cheesy greetings again, but I figured you might be able to stop me._

_ You are the bravest person I know. I've never met anyone more worthy of being titled a hero. Your courage and valiance are incredible, and I'm constantly amazed by how strong you are. If you ever stopped being you, I think I'd have to choke you. In a way, your strength inspired me to get by. Having you around to make bad jokes and read comics and play video games with made my life so much better._

_ And I'm sorry I'm a jerk for this. I'm sorry I'm a selfish bastard and I'll never be as good a friend as you are. I'm sorry if I upset you, or if I hurt you. But you are the greatest person in the world, and I love you. Thanks for making it better._

_ Love, Eli_

With that, Eli hit his head back against the wall. He was selfish. He was a low, horrible creature. He was awful, writing letters at the scene. Being so disgusting, though, made this all the more worth it. He closed his eyes as he grabbed the very last letter, and was so tempted to rip it into pieces.

_My heart._

_ Clare,_

_ I get it. I understand. I know why you've abandoned me. I get that there's something wrong with me, and that it's bigger than both of us, and if I were in your shoes, I would leave me, too. But, all the same, I want you to know, one last time, what you mean to me._

_ You're my everything. When we first met, you were a pretty face. When we were paired up in English class, you were a dream. You were a beautiful, talented, good girl that I could never imagine having for myself. When we kissed, you were amazing. And you have been ever since. Even on Vegas __Night. Even when you broke into my room. Even when you said you needed space. You have been the light in my life, and you've been helping me, healing me._

_ But as it turns out, you're not enough. You couldn't save me. In the end, I guess you just weren't the answer like I thought you were. I honestly believed you were going to be the sun._

_ That's okay, though. Because I'm the only one hurting._

_ Eli._

He looked at all three of the notes one last time, and held them tightly in his left hand. With his right hand, he reached for the gun. It shimmered at him, one last time, and he thought about what dying would be like. He decided it would be quiet, and peaceful, just like he wanted. All Eli wanted was for it to be quiet.

Propping the gun against his chest, he aimed towards his heart. He wanted to be sure he didn't miss, but he realized that even if he did, he would bleed to death before anyone found him. And if he missed, he could just try again. So he closed his eyes, the barrel to his chest, and tightened his grip on the letters.

"Goodnight," he said softly, and squeezed the trigger.

He didn't miss.


End file.
